Sorrow in the Moonlight
by MelissaRose85
Summary: Vincent and Tifa mull over helping each other with their pain one dreary night. VincentxTifa. Set after Advent Children, without DofC spoilers.


A little different for me. This is my first FF fic. I happened upon this pairing, and I found it tremendously moving. I think they would be perfect for each other. (Sorry, Cloud.) If anybody lieks it, I may write a few more. Maybe a comedy. I need some laughs.

Disclaimer: I have bills. That is it.

"**Sorrow in the Moonlight"**

She wasn't exactly sure when the blond, spiky hair in her dreams had faded to long and black—it had happened so surreptitiously. Her heart and mind seemed to have slowly accepted the inevitable truths of their world. _Cloud was not hers._ She had replaced her hero before she consciously knew it. She used to wait for Cloud like the faithful mother or sister, but now her favorite times were the ones when he was gone. When he was searching for his own love in the world. He would go far into the distance and she—well, she would stay right there in Midgar and repeat the same mistakes. She had always been told that history repeated itself.

_Your subtleties, they strangle me…_

She had a new hero in a red cape; a brooding, quiet man who was a generous as he was frigid. He barely spoke to her and she only saw him when he came to drop off groceries or weapons, or when he was getting drunk. He was a constant presence hovering in the gray haze behind her eyes, constantly watching and protecting, but never involving himself too much in the affairs of the small group. She wasn't sure why, she definitely didn't know how, but she wondered silently if she wanted to be with him.

_And all the wants, and all the needs, all I don't want to need at all…_

She could tell when his own loves long past were occupying his thoughts, and it was almost constant. There was no room in such a beautiful mind for her. So her heart fell and her mind screamed and she was torn between loving him for who he was and hating him for what he'd been. Everyone worried she couldn't get over Cloud, when he couldn't leave Lucretia.

_When darkness turns to light, it ends tonight…_

Like every night before, she sat in the bar watching through the windows as day faded to night, slowly sweeping shadow over her life and thoughts. She could be happy for the children, Barret, and Yuffie. But at night she became a bartender: a person who listened to others' problems and silently wanted to ruminate over her own. She morphed into a person bogged down by burden and troubles, hoping that sometime in this weary life she could feel the pressure of caring for everyone lessen. Those who were so strong were now helpless and although she loved them, she felt the weight of being the support for so many lost souls. She hated being the literal 'home base.'

_Just a little insight will make this right; it's too late to fight…_

The bell over the door rang, and vibrant red fluttered around black as he approached the bar; she immediately began to fix him a drink. She could see the problems in his eyes, swimming just below the surface of cinnamon. The one person she wanted to open up to her would never lay his troubles at her feet.

_All these thoughts locked inside…_

He focused his eyes on his drink, drowning in his sorrows, and for once she wished she was the one on that barstool. She wanted someone she could confess all her deepest fears to without being judged for anything more than drinking a little too heavily. She would like sympathy every once in a while. No one ever thought of her pains; everyone forgot her problems with Cloud, the death of her good friend, the loss of her family, and the loss of _herself._ That had to be the final blow to any happiness she had once held in her heart. She could never know a man—be with a man—with the way her body looked. Her figure, as many men pointed out, was one to thank the Gods for, but her scars were not. Being strong had come with a heavy price, written into her skin in many different spots. No man would wish to love a woman whose chest was one long, torn piece of flesh that could never heal or scar evenly.

_It ends tonight…_

She unconsciously rubbed her sternum, feeling the diagonal scar running through her chest. She didn't see him slowly trace the movement of her hand, or see how his eyes softened as he felt her pain. Her eyes traced a glare on the wood of the bar, shining identically because of the moisture gathered in her eyes. It just hurt too much. She through down her bar rag and moved to the door behind the bar, trying not to rush to get out into the open air. Rushing only made the pain obvious, and worse.

Vincent's POV

He strode into the bar, glancing at the few patrons sitting in the dim light of sunset at musing over their problems. His eyes rested on her form, hunched and burdened by the sadness she had seen.

_Deliver me out of my sadness…_

His mind drifted into fantasy as he sat in front of her. He imagined how it would feel to be able to live a life with this beautiful woman, this woman who had overcome so many of his demons to take a place in his frozen heart. He had asked himself thousands of times if Tifa had been—well, he knew that never would have happened. She never would have done to him what Lucretia had done. Tifa was good, loyal, loving, and most of all deserving of happiness. Tifa could never have done such horrible things to a man she loved, even if he did deserve it.

_All of my life I've been in hiding, wishing there was someone just like you…_

He wanted her so badly; he wanted to be the one that could finally return her kindness. He saw how she took everyone's sorrow, even his, and transformed it without once giving her own to someone to keep. He knew it was futile. She could never love a monster like him, and he surely wasn't deserving of such a wonderful creature. Life as Tifa's hero would be much too happy for someone who was responsible for the almost-destruction of the world.

_Now that I've found you, I know that you're the one to pull me through…_

He watched her rub her chest, and he knew she was thinking of the scar. He had never seen what Masamune had done to her, but he had heard from the others that her chest was nothing but one huge scar. He understood scars; he had plenty of his own. He also knew that she thought it made her unwanted, marked in a way that would prevent her from ever finding love. He thought it made her that much more beautiful. He would be the one to trace that scar with his mouth, soothing away her fears and showing her that such a physical reminder of her strength was striking, brilliant.

_Deliver me…_

He watched her eyes fill with tears. He watched her sling the rag out of her grasp and he watched as she tried to walk calmly outside. She was failing. He could feel her hurt, her pain, her resentment.

He gave her five minutes before he followed, sick of watching.

She stood in the small patch of grass behind her house, staring at the glowing moon. He crept behind her, slowing raising his own hand to trace the scar from shoulder to stomach. He felt her breath recede into the night, and he smiled at her relaxation. He wasn't sure how long it would take, but he would show her the beauty he saw. He would let her see that she occupied his heart and mind, and he would convince her to let him love her, support her. Tifa deserved happiness, even if she had to find it in a monster like him.

Somewhere, deep inside, he thought that maybe he deserved some as well.

* * *

So, my first FF fic! I'm kinda proud of myself and I hope everyone liked it. As for the music: the songs reflect both of them. Tifa wants Vincent but is hurt by the way he acts, but he will end her pain. Vincent had been delivered from his darkness by Tifa, but now he wants to return the favor. I thought them fitting.

Review if you like!


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